These Are the Fast Times

Lila

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I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t excited to come home for the week.

Just to have a break for the first time in months. No demanding boss from work, no classes and no schoolwork.

I sleep straight through my flight and wake up groggy and irritated to the sound of the voice on the plane’s loudspeaker:

“We are beginning descent into O’Hare International Airport. Please keep your-”
I feel a smile break on my face as I drown out the disembodied voice’s warning about seatbelts.

I’m restless while they prep the plane to get everyone off in an orderly fashion and up until I find my suitcase.

The first person I see when I’m finally free is Michael. Then Melly’s curly dark head of hair, bickering with Mike, it looks like. Same as always. It only makes me smile wider. I’m home.

“Lila!” Melly shouts abruptly, causing a few people to glance at our little group while I approach.

“Mels,” I state, trying hard not to laugh as she embraces me, but hugging her back tightly, regardless. “Breathe, Melly.”

I give the guys hugs as well, quickly answering their rapid-fire questions about my new life, while I insist that nothing’s changed since they last saw me.

Or at least I don’t feel like it has.

I’ve missed them.

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The quaint little store is located on a nice corner a few blocks away from his apartment.

I smile when I enter quietly and see him leaning against the cashier’s counter, appearing nothing besides bored out of his mind. He looks like he hasn’t shaved in a few days, but his sandy curls are shorter, almost gone with the air of a recent haircut. He looks up only as the door clicks shut behind me. His lips reflect a matching smile at me.

“Ben, I’m taking my break now,” he calls to some unseen person in the stockroom.

I walk back out, walking slow so he can catch up quickly. I feel a tug at my wrist and he spins me around to face him, catching me with his lips. His hands grip my waist tightly and I don’t even care that we’re in the middle of the sidewalk and that it’s cold and windy. His mouth is hot on mine and I just feel almost complete at this point.

“Fuck, I’ve missed you,” he says finally, when he releases me. We continue walking down the street at a leisurely place, hand in hand, fingers lazily tangled.

“You always said you’d never work at an art store,” I remark, wondering out loud.

“Things change,” he replies, squeezing my hand. He doesn’t supply any other explanation.

“You don’t,” I observe, lightly bumping my shoulder with his. He only shrugs good-naturedly. “Tell me about the record,” I say. I haven’t heard much about it with how busy I’ve been with work and school in New York. It makes me feel a bit guilty for barely knowing what’s going on. “Are you all done with it?”

“Just finished,” he replies.

“And? Can I hear it?” I ask eagerly.

“And it’s a surprise,” he says, smiling. “Besides, it’s not mixed yet.”

“Fine,” I pretend to sulk. He just smiles and squeezes my hand.

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I smile at him in the dark while his warm hands brush against my skin, tracing my curves, undressing me.

His fingertips trace up and down my ribcage, my stomach, lightly tickling me. His shirt and pants are already on the floor, soon joined by mine as well.

My fingers dance across his back while we kiss languidly; we have plenty of time.

“I can’t wait for you to come back this summer,” he hums against my throat, making me shiver before I can register what he’s said. His hand runs up my bare leg and he kisses my neck, his stubble vaguely scratching my throat.

That’s when I realize that I’ve had the mindset assuming I’d stay in New York with Victoria this summer.

“What if I stay?” I blurt out, making him pause to look me in the eyes.

“In New York? Why?” he asks, pulling away to look at me more carefully.

“I don’t know. Work?” I reply, already not liking where the conversation is going.

“Oh,” is all he says, and I hear every possible tone of disappointment and confusion in his voice.

“Maybe,” I quickly say, to save the moment. “I don’t even know. It’s so far away,” I try to recover. “We don’t have to talk about it for awhile,” I continue.

“Yeah,” he agrees absently. “You’re right.”

He kisses me again, and believe me, I want to get back in the moment, but I sense we both feel the new uncertain undertones.